Chapter 323: Should We Move?

Zhao Zhentang and He Cuihua were overjoyed to see Zhao Jin return, and naturally there had to be good food and fine dishes again. The whole family gathered in high spirits. Except for Liu Yong, the companions were all in roughly the same situation, going home to reunite with their families. The household guards whose leave had been cut short also requested leave again to return home.

Before nightfall, Wang Zhaojing parted from the main force of the Zhao Character Battalion and rode to the east gate of Xuzhou to welcome his father, Wang Youshan, back.

Although Wang Youshan was a pure and esteemed civil official of Presented Scholar background, he was no bookworm too weak to truss a chicken. Perhaps because he grew up in Xuzhou, he could also ride a fast horse.

Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Wang Zhaojing spotted his father and four attendants riding toward him from afar. Uncle He, who had gone out to meet them, was also riding alongside. Wang Zhaojing hurriedly waved to signal them.

In no time, the riders had arrived before him. Wang Zhaojing quickly bowed deeply and said, "Father."

Wang Youshan was travel-worn. He, who had always been meticulous about his appearance, was now utterly disheveled, clearly exhausted from the hard journey. From horseback, Wang Youshan fixed his gaze on his son and scrutinized him carefully. Only after confirming there were no wounds did he breathe a sigh of relief, though his expression immediately turned stern.

"One must be single-minded in one's pursuits. Since you have resolved to seek scholarly honors, why are you wasting time here in Xuzhou? There are fewer than fifty days until the Provincial Exam — what exactly are you thinking!" Wang Youshan rebuked him mercilessly from horseback.

In orthodox scholar-official families, the ideal was a strict father and a kind mother. The father would not spare his countenance and would demand much of his children. Wang Youshan had always done just that. However, Wang Zhaojing had been clever and sensible since childhood, so there had rarely been occasion for reprimands.

"Your child... your child knows his mistake!" Wang Zhaojing awkwardly raised his head and admitted his fault.

Though the sun had set and the east side of the city was in shadow, Wang Youshan still saw the scar on Wang Zhaojing's cheek — it was simply too conspicuous.

A speeding arrow had grazed his cheek, slicing open a gash. Although medicine had been applied afterward and it had healed, only a few days had passed, and it still looked very obvious.

Wang Youshan's fury and reprimands were all choked back by that wound. He sat stunned on his horse for a moment, then let out a long sigh and said, "Let's go home first!"

The scolding was within expectations. When his father Wang Youshan's expression showed concern from horseback, he had been looking down.

After dinner, Wang Youshan summoned Wang Zhaojing to the study again. At the city gate, there had been household servants and outsiders present. Although the reprimand had been severe enough, some things were still inconvenient to say. Now, in the study with only the two Wang family men, father and son, they could naturally speak freely.

"Reckless, absurd! If you had earlier resolved to share life and death with Zhao Jin and the others, I, your father, would have nothing to say. But you yourself grew afraid and chose to study for the exams. Since you made that choice, you should pursue it single-mindedly. Yet you still concerned yourself with the business in the city, and at such a critical moment, you risked your life so recklessly. If you miss the Provincial Exam, you can take it again, but what if something had happened to you? What would I do then? This is unfilial, utterly unfilial!" Wang Youshan usually valued self-restraint and depth of mind, but now he was in a violent rage.

Wang Zhaojing knelt down with a pained expression. He could hear the concern within his father's furious words, so he had no intention of arguing back.

"Father, your child was wrong. Please, Father, quell your anger." Wang Zhaojing knelt there and pleaded.

Wang Youshan waved his hand irritably, took several deep breaths, and then said, "You will set out for Nanjing within three days. I have already arranged everything there."

Having said this, Wang Youshan's mood did not improve. He went on irritably, "Three hundred thousand refugees on the Huai, two-thirds of Shandong struck by great disaster, peasant revolts everywhere in Henan — the world has decayed to such a state. This Xuzhou is no place to live in peace either..."

Unlike the local strongmen and commoners of Xuzhou, Wang Youshan had served in the central hub of the capital. His perspective and thoughts were naturally different, and his vantage point far higher. Others merely saw Xuzhou as suffering an unexpected calamity, but Wang Youshan saw that several provinces in the heartland of the Great Ming were all in turmoil.

He spoke on and then fell silent. Wang Zhaojing dared not make a sound. After a moment of silence, Wang Youshan spoke again, "In Yangzhou and Nanjing, I still have a few old friends I can trust. If you are willing to go there, we can move the household."

Attachment to one's native soil is for ordinary folk. For a wealthy and esteemed family like the Wangs, they naturally had many options.

Wang Zhaojing was stunned. He straightened his upper body from his kneeling position and said with an urgent face, "Father, your child does not wish to leave Xuzhou. We cannot go!"

Hearing this, anger flickered across Wang Youshan's face again, but after a moment of shifting candlelight, he ultimately sighed and said, "You are still young. You think that close friends and brothers are the most important things under heaven. But you and they are not walking the same path. Pursuing scholarship and the exams, and brandishing blades and spears, are two entirely different matters..."

At this point, Wang Youshan paused and softened his tone. "When you shared life and death with Zhao Jin and the others back then, the bond of loyalty was deep. If you had simply continued on like that, you brothers and friends would have helped each other and gone on that way forever. But you grew afraid. That choice of yours was not wrong, but by making that choice, you have grown distant from them. If you wish to walk together again, do you think it can still be the same as before?"

"Father, Brother Zhao still regards your child as a brother. Chen Sheng is cold of face but warm of heart. They are both worthy of sharing life and death with." Wang Zhaojing said urgently.

Wang Youshan looked at Wang Zhaojing and shook his head, saying slowly, "You are still young..."

"Father, your child indeed does not have your thorough understanding of the world, but your child has his own considerations. Father, have you heard about the fighting inside and outside the city this time?"

Being interrupted by his son, Wang Youshan frowned with displeasure and said, "Old He has already told me everything. Zhao Jin fought fiercely, and you also fought desperately. What else could there be?"

"Father, have you ever considered this? The Zhao Character Battalion is only six hundred men, yet they roamed at will through an army of tens of thousands of bandits, charging in and out..." Wang Zhaojing began to describe the Zhao Character Battalion's battle to Wang Youshan. Wang Youshan was very impatient at first, but as the account deepened, his expression gradually grew solemn.

Wang Zhaojing normally had an excellent silver tongue, speaking eloquently and with great fluency. But now his words did not flow smoothly; he spoke while pondering, unwilling to miss a single detail.

"... Even Brother Zhao alone could have pressured the Prefect to hand over that sum of money. Even if Brother Zhao did not step forward himself, if he had asked Father to intervene, that Prefect Tong would still have had to agree. Yet Brother Zhao did not do so. He first let those private armies of the strongmen outside the city resent the Prefect, and then bestowed favor himself to win their hearts..." Wang Zhaojing recounted everything Zhao Jin had done, from leading the Zhao Character Battalion to the walls of Xuzhou City up to the present day.

When all was told, Wang Zhaojing was about to offer his commentary, but he discovered that his father Wang Youshan had already sunk deep into thought.

Wang Zhaojing dared not disturb him and just knelt there waiting. The study was silent, only the candle flame within its shade flickered unceasingly, causing the complexions of both father and son to shift with the light.

No one knew how much time had passed. Only when a servant's shout rang out somewhere in the residence did Wang Youshan awaken from his contemplation. He glanced at Wang Zhaojing, still kneeling on the ground, shook his head, and said, "What are you still kneeling for? Stand up!"

Wang Zhaojing's knees were already aching. Naturally, he dared not voice any complaint and simply hurriedly braced himself to stand. Wang Youshan suddenly asked, "What exactly are you thinking?"

"Father, with the world so chaotic, only the weapon in one's hand is reliable. Only the words of a military man carry weight." Wang Zhaojing gritted his teeth and spoke his view.

Wang Youshan was taken aback, then scoffed, "What do you understand? Where is the world chaotic!"

Hearing this, Wang Zhaojing felt somewhat deflated. Then Wang Youshan asked again, "Do you still intend to take the Provincial Exam?"

This time it was Wang Zhaojing's turn to be stunned. A look of joy first spread across his face, and then he answered solemnly, "Your child has studied hard for so many years. Of course I will go."

"You call that studying hard? It was nothing but good luck. You've been exhausted these past days. Go and rest now!" Wang Youshan said with a smile, waving his hand.

Wang Zhaojing respectfully took his leave, his expression already much brighter. As he reached the door, Wang Youshan spoke again from behind him, "The official gazette sent to the Prefect's office is customarily copied and delivered to our household as well. In the future, remember to bring it for Zhao Jin and the others to read. If your companions do not understand something, you can explain it to them in detail."

The official gazette was a bulletin distributed by the central court to the various ministries, departments, and offices. Its contents included the emperor's daily life, words and deeds, imperial edicts, court decrees, written edicts, laws and ordinances, as well as the appointment, promotion, demotion, dismissal, reward, and punishment of officials, and selected memorials from high ministers and local officials. All major events under heaven were reflected in this gazette. It could be considered the earliest form of newspaper, and in this era, it was the tool for understanding the great affairs of the world.

The office of the Prefect of Xuzhou naturally had it. Wang Youshan, as a censor of the Chief Surveillance Bureau, though retired and living at home, was still a court official, so the Prefect's office customarily copied and delivered a copy to him as well.

Wang Zhaojing paused at the doorway, then smiled and said, "Your child understands."

"In conducting oneself and handling affairs, haste easily leads to mistakes. Take it slowly, observe slowly, there is no rush." Wang Youshan said leisurely, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to Wang Zhaojing or muttering to himself.

Zhao Jin had gone to bed very early at home. His parents were very happy about his return, but they did not pester him with questions or chat for long. They simply watched him eat, change his clothes, and urged him to rest early.

Perhaps because everything he had done during this period had succeeded, or perhaps because he had been constantly on the move without rest, Zhao Jin slept very deeply that night.

When he woke the next morning, it was about the same time as usual. Zhao Jin felt brimming with energy. After dressing, he quietly and softly left his room.

He had thought no one in the family was up yet, but he had not expected his father, Zhao Zhentang, to already be in the courtyard. Zhao Zhentang sat on a low stool, his back to him, staring blankly at the now-empty monkey cage. Yesterday, his mother He Cuihua had wanted Zhao San to take it away and throw it out, but Zhao Zhentang had not allowed it.

Looking at his father's back, Zhao Jin realized that his father had grown old. Though not yet fifty and still in the prime of his physical health, he was indeed old.

Zhao Jin accidentally made some noise. Zhao Zhentang turned around, and upon seeing it was Zhao Jin, smiled and asked, "Why are you up so early?"

"Dad, if you feel bad, we can just raise another one." Zhao Jin said in a muffled voice.

Zhao Zhentang stood up and waved his hand, saying somewhat desolately, "In the executioner's trade, you raise one from the moment you enter the profession. Every day you stroke the monkey's neck, so that when you bring the blade down on the execution ground, you have a feel for it. As long as you don't mistreat the macaque, it can always live twenty or thirty years. When it dies, the one who raised it is old too. This monkey died early, but my shoulder is ruined as well. I can't do this trade anymore."

The wound on his shoulder had been inflicted by a spear thrust. In that life-or-death struggle, no one would hold back their strength. Zhao Zhentang had been unable to attend to the wound at the time. It was later discovered that both bone and muscle were damaged. After healing, normal movements should be possible, but the forceful chopping motion was no longer feasible. Thus, the executioner's livelihood could no longer be pursued.

"If you can't do it, then don't. There are so many posts in the yamen. Dad can do whatever he is able to do." Zhao Jin added.

"If you want to practice martial arts, go practice. If you want to eat, tell Zhao San's wife to get up and cook. Hurry up and go about your own business!" Zhao Zhentang shooed him away very impatiently.

Zhao Jin felt a bit awkward and did not want to stay in the courtyard. He picked up his long spear and short blade and went out the gate.

The household guards on rotating duty outside the courtyard saw him come out and immediately saluted and greeted him. Zhao Jin waved his hand to indicate it was unnecessary. He stood before the gate, thought for a moment, then walked off in one direction. Someone immediately followed behind him.

The place Zhao Jin was headed wasn't far from home — a few turns and he arrived. It was the residence left behind by his second uncle, Zhao Zhenxing.

Zhao San would come by from time to time to sweep this courtyard. Though the yard and rooms held quite a few things, the gate was never locked. To the jianghu marketplace of Xuzhou, this place was forbidden ground. Anyone who got ideas about it — before the Zhao Character Camp even made a move, others would finish him off first.

Zhao Jin entered the courtyard, shut the gate, and with a shake of the long spear in his hand, settled into his stance. A few movements in, and in a daze he was back several years ago, his second uncle beside him recounting battlefield experience and how to handle things.

Second Uncle Zhao Zhenxing probably never imagined that Zhao Jin would encounter so much — much of that experience proved useless, like small squads of elite troops against endless waves of refugees.

As he practiced, Zhao Jin's thoughts turned to bird guns and firearms. He remembered very clearly Second Uncle Zhao Zhenxing saying that the only useful firearm was the cannon — the bigger the cannon, the greater the killing power. Everything else was worthless. Thunderbolt guns, three-eye guns, quick guns, Nest-of-Bees rockets — all of them were disasters.

"... He's holding a firearm, watching the enemy approach from afar, and right away his heart pounds and his hands shake. He keeps lighting and firing nonstop, and before the enemy even gets close, his piece is already too hot to use. The enemy arrives, he throws down the firearm and runs — worse than if he'd been holding a blade or spear and just charged in to fight when they came..."

"... Government-made weapons are completely unusable. Swords and blades are crudely made, but at least you can still hit someone with them. When firearms are crudely made, they turn into firecrackers. Over at Datong, fighting the Tartars, the Tartar cavalry charged within twenty paces and got hit by three-eye guns and quick guns — and nothing happened. In the end it was the Tartars' mounts that got spooked by the gunpowder smoke and reared up; the Tartars fell off and were hacked to death by blades. Looking into it afterward, the firearms had only singed some hair, man and horse alike, and raised a few blood blisters..."

"... The Qi Family Army values bird guns, but their bird guns are all precision-crafted, and when firing there are strict rules. A bird gunner always has a saber-and-shield man beside him. If he doesn't follow the firing rules, one slash comes down. But that kind of discipline — only Old General Qi could enforce it. Any other force tries that, and within days the ranks would be at each other's throats..."

"... For a firearm to be accurate, you have to raise it and aim. But with crude manufacture, the moment you light it, it explodes. Blowing up your face is the least of it — plenty of men have had their eyes blinded. Tell me, who'd still dare to aim? And a thing that can't hit anything in the first place, if you don't even aim it — it's worse than useless..."

"... Now cannons, those are truly something else. A cannonball weighing several jin comes flying out — whatever it hits, it wrecks. And if it bounces along the ground, it's even more deadly..."

Returning home, coming to his second uncle's place, Zhao Jin felt a swell of emotion and memory — but now his mind was flooded entirely with thoughts of firearms. That bird gun from the Xu family had left far too deep an impression on him.

Everyone thought firearms were useless, priding themselves on blade, spear, and bow. And for years, the scope of Zhao Jin's world had been limited. It was only yesterday, by the river, that he had truly laid eyes on a bird gun for the first time.

Yet there were things about it that puzzled Zhao Jin. The Xu family man kept saying the bird gun was built to regulation, but the grip was too short, and the barrel far too slender and long. The grip could be overlooked, but if the barrel was that slender and long, the bullet would be too light and its killing power reduced. In Zhao Jin's memory, a fire gun's barrel was more than twice as thick as the one he'd seen yesterday, and shorter by a third. The grip was much larger. As for the powder pan, the bird-beak clamp, the trigger — those were no different.

Moreover, the fire guns in his memory were very heavy. Firing from the shoulder, you couldn't even hold them steady — you needed a wooden fork rest to support them. Yesterday's bird gun was comparatively lighter.

These differences didn't dampen Zhao Jin's enthusiasm. Now that he had a model, a direction, and even knew the craftsmen who could work on it, the next step was improvement — refining it until he made the most suitable version.

Zhao Jin practiced the whole morning in high spirits. If he hadn't remembered that his parents would be angry if he didn't come back for breakfast, he would have gone straight to the freight yard to study that bird gun.

The moment he got home and saw the dishes on the table, Zhao Jin was startled. Such a lavish spread so early in the morning — four hot dishes, two cold, and freshly baked oil cakes.

"You never eat well when you're out there. Now that you've finally come home, I just made a few extra dishes," his mother He Cuihua said with a beaming smile.

The family of three was happy, and Zhao San and his wife, along with the Meng siblings, were also in high spirits — they got to share the good food too. The atmosphere in the courtyard was like a festival.

By Zhao Zhentang's habit, a spread like this called for a couple of drinks, but with his shoulder injured, he had to hold off for now.

Zhao Jin knew his parents were happy, so he didn't wolf down the food. He ate slowly, chatting as he went. After a while, Zhao Zhentang brought up the matter of the prefect's yamen.

"Old Tong is going to take a huge fall this time. From the moment those roving bandits entered our Xuzhou until now, he's made one wrong move after another. Not to mention the gentry and common folk — even inside the yamen, the discontent with him runs deep. He'd held his post for nine years and had the whole hierarchy firmly in his grip, but after this, I'm afraid even lining his pockets will be hard."

"Father, sitting idle at home isn't good for you either. Go back to your post at the yamen. You can have any assignment you want anyway — busy or easy, it's up to you," Zhao Jin said with a smile.

Zhao Zhentang picked up a piece of mutton with his chopsticks, put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He shook his head and said, "I can't afford to rest. I need to go to the yamen and keep an eye on things for you. With the scale of your operation now, you need to know every whisper on the official front. This time we came far too close to being ruined by that Yang Zhongping!"

"Can't even have the whole family together for a bit of peace and quiet — you father and son, really..." He Cuihua muttered from the side.